


What Do You Do When You Hate All Your Friends?

by mikkiollie



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Flashbacks, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 05:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6271765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkiollie/pseuds/mikkiollie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dee doesn’t notice him staring, Dee doesn’t really notice when any guy stares at her like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Do When You Hate All Your Friends?

**Author's Note:**

> hello this is my first sunny fic and idk if i'll continue it but have some hs chardee for now !

In high school, Charlie didn’t know what flirting was. He didn’t know what a crush was. He didn’t care, either. Whenever Dennis showed up, talking to Mac and Charlie about how he fingered Emily Cook last night in the bathroom of some stranger’s house, during a party they all went to, Charlie just tuned him out. It was automatic. Listening and comprehending something like that was about as difficult as trying to read ‘The Scarlet Letter’. It gave him a headache. He couldn’t do it.

If Charlie knew what a crush was, he’d probably have one on Dee Reynolds. Him and Dee, they didn’t have to talk much when they were alone. The silences that filled the space between words were comfortable, completely normal. Just how he was with Mac; his best friend since basically forever. But with Mac, those silences sometimes got boring. With Dee, they could sit there and drink their parents booze and not say a single word, but both of them had that warm feeling in their chest. Comforted, safe, normal, content. Both of them just blamed that warmth on the alcohol they were ingesting, but it wasn’t.

If Charlie knew what flirting was, he wouldn’t say what he said to Dee during homecoming of junior year. Neither of them went to the dance, they never really did. In fact, this had been routine. Ditch the dance, since neither of them got asked out ever, and go sit under the bleachers or at the abandoned playground on West Norris in the dark, with a case of beer and two bottles of vodka. Dee would talk about her day, and Charlie would soak up both her words and the alcohol. This time, she said something about not being asked to dances or something. Was it because she’s not pretty? That was a question that Dee might’ve asked out loud, but never gave Charlie the opportunity to answer. ( Not that he would’ve, anyway. )

The vodka was making him feel warm and fuzzy, though. And he glanced at Dee. Except it wasn’t a glance, it was a long stare, drinking in the sight of her thick eyelashes and her glossed lips as they moved, still speaking. Her cheeks were rosy from the crisp night air, and her blue eyes shimmered, reflecting the stadium lights. It reminded him of the color of the sky when the sun was almost completely down. Dee doesn’t notice him staring, Dee doesn’t really notice when any guy stares at her like this. And then Charlie says it.

“Dee, you look really pretty.”

She pauses to gape at him, then. Dee knew him well enough that she could tell that it was a genuine comment, and the look on his face supports the statement. Charlie didn’t tell girls they were pretty, he only told his mom sometimes if she asked him before going on a “date” with some man whom he’s never met.

Charlie didn’t tell girls they were pretty, but he told Dee that she was. Because she was.

In that moment, Charlie’s one comment almost chips away at some of the build-up that Barbara’s opposing comments made on her. Almost.

And then Charlie turns away again and takes another swig of the shared vodka, as if what he said was just a comment on how many stars were out tonight. Maybe to Charlie, it was that simple. But to Dee, it wasn’t. 

Dee never forgets that moment, even during the many times she’ll end up wanting to.


End file.
